Birthday Cake and Broken Hearts Taped Whole
by Ranowa Hikura
Summary: Roy has a long overdue visit to make to his family. (A follow-up oneshot to Akarri's Postmortem!)


A follow-up oneshot to Akarri's Postmortem! If you haven't read that, go check it out (before you read this at least, lol) because it's GREAT! And sad, and tragic, and painful, and- u-um... happy birthday, Akarri! :D

Also, to those interested, Akarri and I will have a joint project going up on ao3 soon! (It's mostly what's been taking up my time instead of To The Night Sky... author is so sorry ;-;) It'll have lots of parental Roy, lots of hugs, and lots of ART- so check it out if you're interested! Now- I hope you all enjoy!

* * *

Postmortem, Chapter 15: _"[Maes] was already planning the lengthy apology he would give [Elicia] when he would finally be free to tell the world of Roy's survival, and then the whole family, Roy included if he was up to to it by then, would go get ice cream."_

 _..._

"Stop sulking," Roy announced, and with those confident, self-assured words, there was a smirk on his face as bold as a damn lightbulb. The colonel laughed quietly then, something close to a spring in his step that was surely fueled only by his inner bastard, and continued on down the sidewalk with such sureness and smugness it had to have reached the upper limits for a damn human being… before his head popped with the arrogance. "You're such a naturally cheerful man, Maes- it just doesn't suit you. Come on; cheer up! Smile!"

Gracia laughed softly by his side, more than a hint of amusement just barely stifled in her voice. Elicia giggled along with them, though she, at least, was just laughing because everybody else was, not to make fun of him.

And Maes?

Well, Maes continued to slump, frown, and sulk alongside them, arms folded, shoulders down, and walking like he was under his own personal storm cloud.

Elicia giggled again, reaching one arm over to tug on his sleep, little fingers struggling to drag him out of his own misery while she continued to lean against Roy's back. "Stop sulking, Daddy!" she parroted, though he was quite sure she didn't even know what the word meant, and he slumped even worse than before.

Betrayed. Betrayed, by his own daughter.

 _Thanks, ROY._

They were talking down the street together, him and his family and his best friend, by all appearances content and peaceful. All smiles (minus himself), and as happy as a family was supposed to be. Gracia walked by his side, hand in his, still seeming to fight back a small smirk that was but a shadow of Roy's, while Roy was on his other side.

And his daughter was on his back.

 _Roy's back._

Also happy as could be.

It was, horribly, just how things had worked out. Elicia, absolutely bouncing and ecstatic, out of her mind with the joy of seeing her uncle again, had wanted to be carried; Maes, of course, had immediately moved on instinct to pick her up.

The still healing wound in his gut had had other ideas.

As had Gracia, who had pulled him back in something close to alarm almost immediately, concern softening her face, and as had Roy, who'd been more restrained than his wife but no less worried.

Which led to their current situation.

Of Roy, his _bastard_ best friend, giving _his daughter,_ a piggyback ride.

Maes frowned down at his feet, absently rubbing at the still healing, sore patch of bandages around his stomach, and again wondered at the impossibility of the fact that he was jealous of his best friend. And that Roy, of course, was rubbing it in.

Asshole.

Of course, he thought, stealing another glance at Elicia's thrilled smile, the ecstatic way she still clung to her godfather, he could only be irritated at Roy on the surface- really, at heart? If Elicia was happy, so was he.

And Elicia very clearly was the happiest she'd been in weeks.

He'd been very worried about how she would react to the revelation of Roy's survival. The timing could hardly be worse; Maes himself hadn't been home from the hospital for that long, and there were some days where he could just see how much she was still reeling from that catastrophe. Then, to suddenly find out her favorite uncle was supposedly alive- and yet still nowhere in sight, for reasons Maes had only been able to describe as _he's… busy._

There'd been no easy way to explain to her that Roy hadn't come over because, from his point of view- and possibly even Roy's- the man was still fighting for balance himself, as bruised emotionally as Maes was physically. While Maes had been laid up on the couch at home- Gracia's orders- Roy had been busy skulking around his own dusty house. He'd emerged out a few times to try and deal with the military, arranging his upcoming return, he'd had Riza and the Elrics and his team as a regular stream of lighthearted company, and had at least answered the phone when Maes had called to check up on him- but he'd remained resistant in Maes' gentle urgings to come out of his self-imposed exile.

Maes had not been the only one convinced that keeping himself shut away in the dark solitude of his home, much of it still packed away like it had been for a dead man, was not a good thing.

Maes hadn't been the only one worried about him.

Until now, he figured, turning to watch as Roy continued up the street, carrying his daughter, an all with a soft smile.

He wasn't sure what, really, it was about today that had managed to get Roy to rejoin the world of the living. Why this invitation had been accepted while the others had been ignored- if it had just taken time for him to heal, if something else had happened at home, if something had changed on his recent visit to the cemetery- hell, maybe Maes had accidentally guilted him into coming over, with the half-pleading mention of _it's Elicia birthday…_ and _she'd LOVE to see you…!_

Regardless of the reasoning, all Maes knew was that Roy had turned up like a wondering weed on his doorstep, hesitantly knocking and stepping inside with a look about him like he wasn't sure if he belonged- then all but bowled over by the force of a tiny five year old tornado, cheering how this was the best birthday present she'd ever gotten.

That, and the surprised, soft smile on Roy's face when the shock had finally melted away, had been one of the best things Maes had seen all month.

There were still hints of it even now. He looked over at Roy, his best friend walking along with Elicia still clinging tightly to his back; he looked over all the differences, all the things that were somehow still the same. The shadow of tension was steadily growing deeper along his clenched jawline, just the natural result of carrying a squirming five year old for several blocks; it was enough to make Maes reconsider the wisdom of his own wish to be the one carrying her, because it probably would've hurt him more than he'd been able to hide. There was the turtleneck sweater he'd never seen before, the thick material that hid scars they'd probably both rather not think about despite the already warm weather.

There was flicker of hollow darkness in his eyes. A nervous sort of haunting, an unsteadiness around all the other strangers around the sidewalk, the way he sometimes just… twitched…

But alongside all of that, Maes could also see the faint, healing smile.

He was healing.

They all were.

"So," Maes finally began, hoping to change the subject from his aforementioned sulking- and Roy's constant state of smugness. It was nice to see his best friend looking so sure of himself again, even if the cause _did_ happen to be at Maes' expense… "Roy, how have you been d-"

"There it is!"

Maes stopped at Elicia's exclamation, blinking in surprise. Roy stiffened as well, then gasped and reeled, nearly overbalancing by the sharp, steering tug at his hair.

Then, the stunned colonel was abruptly being steered ahead again by a cheering child, steps driven towards the outdoors ice cream shop ahead, and Maes was left behind with Gracia, blinking on in surprise before finally relaxing into a weak laugh.

He never would've thought he'd have missed seeing Roy turned into putty at the small, most capable hands of his daughter.

* * *

Roy never had once guessed that today would end with him sitting at a wooden, splintery picnic table in the park, trying to look dignified while at the same time awkwardly cradling an ice cream cone, and trying to ignore Maes' amused, pointed glances while at the same time converse with a bouncing, recently turned six year old girl.

All in all?

Wasn't as bad as he'd imagined it'd be.

It seemed the ice cream had actually been against Maes and Gracia's better judgment. Roy had 'accidentally' turned up once all the other children had left (fooling no one that it had been an actual accident but perhaps Elicia herself), but it seemed the birthday party had contained enough sugar to send her up into orbit. But, Elicia had asked, and Roy had not been surprised at all to see Maes fail to say no. His best friend was a failure at denying his daughter even at the best of times; on her birthday, with Roy there, and probably as happy as could be? Hell, he was half surprised Maes hadn't given in and gotten her a pony somehow along the way.

Roy sighed, propping his head up on his free hand to just listen and drift for a while. He hated to admit it- _would not,_ if Maes asked- but he was already a little worn out. Now that he thought about it, this was really the first social outing he'd gone on since… well. It was just harder to keep his focus than it should've been. It was even more difficult for him to feel as calm about this as he knew he _should_ be- as he knew he would've been there.

He sighed quietly again, allowing himself a faint scowl down at the slowly dripping, sunset ice cream in his hand.

Weeks, now, and he still felt like… this.

Not as bad as before, not that poisonous instability or uncertainty or that toxic weed of doubt growing from his heart to strangle his throat. His fingers twitched all but against his will, trying to stray towards the hidden scar bisecting his neck, and he forcibly gripped them around the sticky cone tighter, keeping them down, feeling the pull backwards and gritting his teeth against it.

That was something he'd just had to teach himself how to do, and aggressively keep forcing himself to do with every day that dragged on. Recognize when part of him was getting lost back in things that weren't safe to remember and forcibly orient himself in the present, anchoring himself there with everything he had from the alchemy books Ed kept dropping off to scratching and tearing up and down his own arms. Another reason, for the long sleeves… he doubted Maes would be very pleased to find those faint red, fingernail marks trailing along his skin.

He doubted Gracia or Elicia wanted to see them at all.

"…hungry, Roy?"

He started, a small, stuttered breath catching in his throat as reality yanked him back into itself again. "I'm- I'm sorry?" he coughed, blinking to focus on Gracia.

He came back to earth to find Gracia smiling at him, and Maes, sort've… half-smiling, half-smirking. He looked at her first, still blinking awkwardly, then back down at himself, hoping for clarity, and-

Oh.

He flushed a little, feeling a familiar heat starting to warm his face. He instinctively pulled away from Maes, already able to hear the ribbing ringing in his ears, and found himself having to deal with the slowly growing puddle of melted ice cream forming on the back of his hand without licking it up like a cat and incurring even more of Maes' laughter. "I-" he fumbled, still flushing, "um-"

Maes laughed (despite all of Roy's attempts to get him not to), but at least he then did lean over to pluck a napkin out, handing it to him from. "I told you Roy would turn his nose up at this place. He's a snob that lacks a sweet tooth."

"Is that right?" Gracia chuckled, of course siding with her husband; Roy frowned down at the table and wondered how guilty he'd feel if he, ahem, _accidentally_ kicked Maes to the ground right now. The bullet wound was mostly healed, he'd live… "And yet he never seems to lack an appetite for spinach quiche."

Roy scowled again, finishing dabbing up the rest of the wet, sticky puddle, and allowed Maes to steal the rest of the dripping cone without complaint. His stomach probably hadn't been steady enough for it, anyway. "I have… selective tastes," he murmured, then kicked Maes under the table before he could correct him with _it's called a snob._ His best friend winced across the table, smiling sheepishly, and Roy huffed at him before continuing on. "I'm really not that bad. To listen to you two, all I eat is spinach quiche and coffee."

"If my husband is to be believed-"

"He's not," Roy cut in, resisting the urge to kick again. Maes, as if aware of the sudden danger to his shins, suddenly scooted much closer to Gracia. "About pretty much anything. Ever." Sighing, he gave up on getting his revenge, for now, to lean back against the table, trying to shift so the sun wasn't shining in his eyes… yet another development that was as new as it was uncomfortable. Lightphobic and light-seeking all bundled into one torn, messed up package. He grimaced darkly again. "I have a normal diet, just like everyone else. Except Maes, probably. I haven't even eaten spinach quiche in… since…"

There was an uncomfortable silence, and Maes' smile fell just as Roy's own heart shuddered once again.

Since everything, of course.

He fidgeted a little more on the bench, suddenly finding himself squinting closer to the sun, just because he could.

"…Well," Gracia put forth gently after several moments, "you could fix that, you know. Come over more often. I can always makes some for you two."

"I-" Roy stopped, swallowing hard, then again suddenly found his gaze glued back over to the sunlight; anywhere over than at them. He brushed his fingers over the rough splinters of the table, unable to retort and mind only stuck on the weeks he'd hidden in his own house, shying away from facing the rest of the world in some sort of perverted defense mechanism he couldn't quite define. Safer in solitude, maybe, his brain was convinced, after weeks of it being enforced on him, because even lonely and left with his thoughts to run wild, it was _safer,_ his nerves always tried to persuade him, but now, here he was, sitting out in the middle of a well-lit park with dozens and the Hughes family around him and…

"…I'm sorry," he finally murmured, shoulders slumping in defeat. Uncertainty caught in his throat again, tightening even further when he felt their heavy gazes land on him in concern. "I know I've been pretty… scarce, lately. And that Maes has probably been a lot busier with me than is fair for a long time. I'm… sorry."

There was another small, uncomfortable silence. Roy continued fidgeting with the splinters in the table, grounding himself in the rough feel of the wood. "…I hope the next thing you say isn't going to have anything to do with me being shot," Maes murmured at length, but there was a familiar hint of steel in his voice, of bite, and Roy let himself slip into another weak smile he'd never quite been able to believe in.

"No. You've made it clear you don't want to hear anything like that already, Maes." He swallowed hard again, folding his hands together to keep them steady and wondering just why he could never make himself face anyone anymore, that even when it was just his best friend and his wife he found himself trying not to look them in the eyes or hear their words. "All I mean is that I've been… hiding. For a while. I'm not sure why… it's certainly not been of much help to me, never mind anyone else. And it's a poor repayment, for all the people who helped me so much during all of this. I…" He hesitated, finally allowing his gaze to lift off the table and wonder towards the nearby playground, squinting to just make out Elicia playing off the excess sugar with a few other children.

The world had kept on turning when he'd died- because that was what it really was; he didn't have another word for it. It had kept turning when he'd died at Envy's hands and everyone else around him had kept living while he hadn't, with only a precious few left waiting behind when Maes and Ed had finally gotten him to take a breath again.

It felt as if he was still playing catch-up.

Which, by now, was his own damn fault, wasn't it? Roy scowled darkly to himself, some of the almost constant anxiety fluttering in his chest now turning against him in a wave of irritation. Now, it was his _choice…_ he let the world keep on moving outside his dark walls and he let it turn without him, lingering in shadow-shrouded memory and flicking on a night-light with every time the sun set because he was still so terrified of the oppressive darkness that the way the setting sun let it invade his home every night made him choke.

Roy paused again, jaw tensing a little. He curled his hands together again, flexing his fingers through the pain that was far closer to a memory that a real scar anymore.

"…I start work again next week," he began at last, tentatively, a little, uncertain still, but steady. "And I'm sure it'll be a snowstorm of paperwork for a while, so I can't make any promises, but I'll. I'll-" He stopped again, working his jaw. His voice caught unhappily again, something warm and fond squirming in his chest. "…I'll come by this week. And, whenever I'm able, after that. If you'll have me, that is… Maes. Hold me to it."

There was another small silence, and this time, Roy knew it was on him to break it; he finally steeled himself and lifted his gaze up from the table again to see both the Hugheses watching him, surprise paralleling in their eyes and with Gracia's blink and Maes' slow, spreading grin. In fact, knowing Maes, Roy was pretty sure his friend was exerting an effort right now not to exclaim how they would _always_ have him, and that there was no limit because if Maes had his way Roy would've been legally adopted into the family years ago.

"Hold me to it," he said again, meeting Maes' eyes. "Because I might not if you don't drag me over there."

 _And I know I need to,_ he couldn't say aloud- but he knew his best friend would hear it, all the same.

There was another pause, this one a surprised one with Gracia blinking at him uncertainly, and his best friend, just watching with steady, unfathomable eyes.

And then, it was over.

"Count on it, buddy," was all Maes told him, beaming, in the same breath as Gracia shaking her head, saying he had _better not_ back out because they had missed him, and at that, Roy, too, finally had to allow himself a weak smile.

The world had kept turning without him, yes. The same way it would someday keep turning without them all.

But right here, and right now… there were those that loved him, and had been waiting all this time for him to rejoin it.

Gracia rose after that, smiling to them both and looking just as pleased as Maes, the concern that had been shadowing her eyes for so much of this visit finally cleared away at last. "I'm going to get Elicia. It's getting late, we should get her home soon- and no, Maes, I don't care that you promised you'd let her stay up to midnight on her birthday, we both know she won't make it past ten. Roy- please, come home with us. We can all have something to drink together, and I know Elicia would really love it." She turned all her frown on Maes, all her smile on Roy, then her back on both of them, and Maes was again left flushing sheepishly while Roy continued to smirk, eyebrow raised across the table at him.

"She couldn't sleep last night…" Maes explained half-heartedly, barely even trying to justify himself while Roy just rolled his eyes. "She was really excited for today… was convinced her birthday wish was going to come true and didn't want to sleep until it did. I had to promise her that just to get her to stay in bed."

"Mmm, let her have her excitement." Roy shrugged, squinting over to Gracia for a moment. "In a decade or two, she'll stop being so thrilled by the prospect of new socks and turning a year closer to death. What was it, anyway? Last year it was a a princess castle; was it a prince charming this time?"

Maes smirked slightly, his eyes turning sly. "Actually?" he asked, dragging the word out a bit, and Roy found himself already starting to groan.

"I'm sorry I ever as-"

"It was you."

Roy blinked. He stared at Maes, then back over at Gracia and Elicia, then back to him in shock.

It was no surprise when his best friend, again, started to beam.

"It was you," Maes chuckled again, crossing his long legs, then laughed even more at what was probably the gobsmacked look on Roy's face. "Were you listening to her _at all_ when you stepped inside, Roy? Honestly, I think our next door neighbors heard."

"That…" He blinked again, suddenly feeling his face start to warm all over again. "She…"

Yes, he remembered now… Elicia _had_ taken one look at him, earlier this evening, bounced straight up out of her wrapping paper nest, and bounded over to hug him, crying so many things they'd washed over him like water at the time. But he remembered it still- remembered her exclaiming how happy she was to see him, how much she'd missed him…

How her birthday wish had come true.

Roy's face flamed even hotter than before, and once again, he suddenly found the wooden table to be an object of great interest. "Oh," he mumbled, blinking a third time.

He was, of course, entirely unsurprised, when this spurred on nothing but Maes laughing at him again. "You're really an absolute moron, you know?" he teased, reaching out to grab Roy's hand over the table and pull him in closer for a half-sort of hug, fist moving to thump his chest.

There was a very loud crinkle of paper from his pocket.

Roy froze, stiffening with the heavy reminder of it, the way his heart clenched like it was being squeezed. He looked up at Maes, mouth open uselessly because no easy explanation was coming, and Maes, who had never heard of personal space, wasn't waiting for it, instead blinking at him curiously and reaching into his blazer himself. "Oh?" Maes asked, his sure fingers finding their target and withdrawing in all but a second. "What's this?"

"Maes-"

His best friend, halfway through flattening the paper out on the table to be read, stopped. His smile dropped right along with Roy's stomach, and for a moment, time stopped.

Elicia's letter, from the gravesite.

Roy averted his eyes, curling a little more into himself, and said nothing.

He'd carried that letter with him since that day. He'd read and re-read it often enough now that he knew the letter by heart, and the child's drawings and hearts had been burned into his mind with every slow, careful trace of that worn, dirtied paper. Knowing that Elicia had written every single word for him, and all those people who cared about him had signed it for the same reason.

He'd carried it with him, for reasons he couldn't quite put into words yet, and had had yet to put it down.

It was a reminder, of all the people depending on him. It was a letter of all the people he'd let down, if he ever let himself slip back into the darkness again, and all the people he had to thank, for saving him. It was all he'd ever need to remind himself that he wasn't the only one who'd been hurt, and he wasn't the only one who'd _be_ hurt, if he let this break him.

It was also the most touching thing he'd ever laid eyes on.

Somehow, the thought of Elicia burying this while he'd been trapped just yards underneath it, slowly deteriorating, trapped in the belief that he'd been forgotten…

He knew it was impossible, but somehow, Roy found comfort in the idea of all those wishes and hopes in that letter somehow reaching down to him, the hopes of everyone who'd signed it, and keeping him alive long enough for Ed to find him.

That didn't mean this also all wasn't intensely embarrassing, and far too melodramatic to ever say aloud to Maes. He shifted again, face warm and gaze averted as firmly as he could.

There was an awkward pause.

Then, without saying a single word, Maes pushed up from the table, and walked around to sit next to him.

Roy still couldn't really look at him, but he watched out of the corner of his eye as Maes reached out for one of the abandoned crayons on the table that Elicia had left behind, another gift of the ice cream vendor wanting to attract more children to his shop. It was blue, just like Elicia's letter was, but a lighter shade, and still without a word of explanation, Maes set child's pen to paper, and began to color.

He shaded in one of the broken hearts, coloring in darkly and carefully until the crack was smothered by it, the heart healed to look as if it had never been cracked in the first place. Then he went after one of the crying faces, drawing in a careful smile under the tears.

One by one, he filled in every last one of the broken hearts, and turned every last sad, crying face into a smiling one.

Then, still without a word, he folded the letter up again, and slipped it back to its hiding place, right over Roy's heart. He patted his blazer flat again a few times, and when Roy finally managed to drag his hesitant gaze back up to look at him, it was to see Maes smiling even more warmly than before.

"Come on," he said steadily, and grabbed Roy's hands to pull him straight up into a tight, affectionate hug. "Let's go home."


End file.
